


River

by littlemisscurious



Series: Tom, Emmy, Ben, Ellie, Paula, Max and Sophie [14]
Category: Actor RPF, British Actor RPF, Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: Children, F/M, Family, Flashbacks, Gen, Tom Hiddleston/Original Female Character - Freeform, single parent
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-21
Updated: 2013-07-14
Packaged: 2017-12-12 13:48:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 16,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/812262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlemisscurious/pseuds/littlemisscurious
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Having lost his wife in a plane crash a few years back, leaving him behind with their then 1 year old twins Emiliana and Benjamin, Tom is now trying to get his emotional balance back by having their story written down in a biography. Will that really help him to heal his wounds or will they be left open forever? And what role do Paula, his German Au Pair, and Maya, the writer in charge, play in that?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Tom Hiddleston, neither have I met him before or know what he is really like. The original characters of Elizabeth, Maya, Paula, Emiliana and Ben (and any other that might make an appearance), derive entirely from my imagination and any resemblance to living persons is purely incidental. I have tried to stick to real events and places (when necessary) as much as possible but sometimes minor details will be changed in order for the story and its progress to be plausible. Any kind of feedback, questions or criticism are highly appreciated and welcome.

**Prologue**

“Mr Hiddleston.”

A welcoming smile was on her lips.

She greets me as I approach her in the little café near Sloane Square where we had agreed to meet. An empty cup of coffee sits on the little table in front of her, telling me that either I’m late or she had been early. Either way, she doesn’t seem to mind.

“Would you mind if we walked a little?,” I ask tentatively and she shakes her head, still smiling.  
“Not at all.” Grabbing her bag and jacket, she follows me out onto the street and for a moment we walk in silence.

London around us is buzzing. Cars are whizzing past, buses navigate the crowded streets, tourists with their city maps mingle among the posher inhabitants of this borough, probably trying to find the Natural History Museum or the V & A.

We finally reach the riverbank and I take a deep breath even though the air is probably not much cleaner here than further down in the maze of alleyways and streets. I can feel her eyes on me.  
Her dark brown orbs, the colour of a rich hot chocolate I once had while on a press tour in Germany are, I have to be honest, not the most wonderful eyes I have ever seen. The most wonderful eyes for me are grey and shining with long, curved lashes.

And closed.

Forever.

Their carbon copies, two wonderful sets, are still there for me to look at, however, even though at the moment they are probably, hopefully, drawing lopsided castles and superhero vehicles at their nursery.

Leaning onto the waist-high stone wall, I turn around slightly and look at her. The vehicles passing by are messing up her hair, strands of which have long fallen out of her meant-to-be-untidy French braid.  
“Are you sure about this? I don’t know whether it will be what you expected,” I ask quietly, my eyes fixed on hers.

“I don’t have any expectations, Mr Hiddleston,” she shrugs with a smile. She seems to be smiling all the time. Reminds me of myself actually. And her.

“Please call me Tom. I might not be 25 anymore but we’re going to spend quite a bit of time together and I want this to be a comfortable situation for the both of us. Too much formality might be an obstacle there.” Shoving my hands into the pockets of my dark trousers, I try to take her in without appearing to be blatant.  
She looks young but not immature and her outfit, a coral coloured blouse teamed with a pair of beige slacks, screams casual rather than stiff upper lip. I don’t know much about her except for her name and her previous work. That’s all I needed to know after Luke recommended her to me.  
But then again this is not about her. It’s about me.

“Okay...Tom,” she nods. “How would you like to proceed? Is there anything you’d like to know about me before we start? Or do you have any questions in general? Any rules? Any taboos?”

She might be a bit younger than me, in her mid-twenties I suppose, but she is incredibly earnest and professional. She knows of the importance - for her and for me - and I am thankful for her sense of tact. Whether or not she will be that considerate all the time needs to be proven.

"To be honest, I have no idea," I smile a little shyly, my hand inevitably ruffling through my unruly curls which are finally shimmering in their natural colour again after I had to dye them for a role at the National Theatre a few weeks back.  
"This is a rather new situation for me and I guess I'll have to tell you mid-way if there is anything I'm not comfortable talking about. Or maybe I could tell you in the end if there's something I don't wish to be included? I get carried away sometimes while talking and...well, it might happen that I tell you too much."  
I know I'm blushing a bit, my body betraying me once more while I’m trying to pretend I’m cool about it. Talking too much has gotten me into rather embarrassing or uncomfortable situations a lot in the past and even though I try my hardest, it keeps happening again and again.

She nods, a sympathetic smile on her lips, which are the colour of ripe raspberries.  
“Of course. You have the final say anyway and I’m bound to discretion by contract.” She pauses for a moment, her gaze gliding over the muddy, dirty brown water of the Thames nipping on the just as dirty beaches on either side of the riverbed before her chocolate brown orbs find me again.  
“Mr Hid-...Tom, I’m not doing this for the fame or the money or whatever other superficial reason you might think of. I’m doing this because I admire you and I’ve always been an admirer of your wife. The last thing I want to achieve, is hurting you or the memory of her.” Again she pauses, looking at me for some kind of acknowledgement and I nod slightly, encouraging her to go on.  
“We will do this at the pace of your choice. Whenever you want, wherever you want. It’s all entirely up to you. Professionally speaking, I'm all yours so to say.”

Her voice has become quieter while she talked and for a moment I simply look at her, taking in her words. I’m nervous but so is she, I realise. This is not only about me talking of my past, telling the story of me and my deceased wife.  
It’s also about somebody finally listening, and she will do exactly that, listen to it all, knowing that she will be the first one, even my family and friends included, who will hear it all, every single detail. It’s a bit like therapy but instead of healing my wounds, I want to tell the world about the woman who has changed my life forever.  
They might know all about her public image, the one they were allowed to look at when she attended premieres, hers or mine, and other events with me, but they have not the faintest idea of who she was as a daughter, a sister, a wife, and a mother.

It’s about time they got to know.

“Thank you,” I mumble finally and I can see her relax a little, just like me. Slowly, my lips curl into a smile and her own returns back to her full lips as well. This is new and different for the both of us but I am fairly confident it will work out well. The recent proof of her own nervousness and insecurity helps me to trust her and I know that with time it will be easier, it will become normal.

“Shall we walk a little?,” I ask, still smiling, motioning down Chelsea Bridge towards Battersea Park.

“I’d love to,” she replies gratefully and together we cross the bridge and enter the park shortly afterwards. Memories come flooding back but now is not the time to release them. Not yet.

We talk about the recently warmer weather, about the newest addition to the Royal Family - a boy, bless the lord- and new film releases. _Who would have thought she likes animated movies just as much as I do?_ It's all rather casual and maybe even superficial but it helps us to get to know the other bit by bit. Opening up to a complete stranger, stripping off the carefully assembled layers of protection against the invasion by the public eye, is not easy. Strangers will have to become friends and what better way would there be than over dinner with a glass of wine?


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

 

“Sweetheart, it’s time to go to bed now.” I smile as I open the door to my daughter’s bedroom where she is sitting on her four-poster bed surrounded by her cuddly toys, telling them her favourite story, Sleeping Beauty.

She pouts at me and sighs theatrically. _Oh she’s good._ I enter the room and walk over to her bed.

“May I?,” I ask gently and point to a free spot amidst her toys. She nods.

 

“How far in are you with your story?” Her grey eyes with those soft, long lashes fall upon the storybook in her lap.

“Everybody has just fallen asleep,” she explains solemnly and points to the sleeping King and Queen at the top of the page.

“Even the dogs and pigeons, Daddy! Did you know that?” She looks back up at me, eager to share this new discovery of hers, her grey eyes sparkling with excitement and her shoulder-long curls bouncing up and down with her sudden movement.

She loves stories, listening to them as well as telling them, and each time there is something new, something undiscovered which captures her attention.

I feign surprise. “No I didn’t! What about the cook and the maid?”

 

Carefully extricating herself from her stuffed audience, she climbs onto my lap, book still in her hand.

“Look, the King and Queen fell asleep and the dogs and the pigeons and the cook and the maid and everyone else in the whole castle!” Pressing her little finger onto each picture, she now starts telling me the story of Princess Aurora with extraordinary detail.

I’ve read it to her hundreds of times and listened to it just as often but I will never grow tired of her fascination and earnestness and finally her relief when the prince rescues the princess. And she knows that. She knows she can stay up just those few moments longer because I will never interrupt her mid-way through the story.

 

The sound of little, naked feet padding upon the dark, oakwood floor makes me look up from the image of the sleeping princess for a moment.

Emiliana’s five year old twin brother Benjamin comes towards us, the shirt of his Iron Man pyjama half-way tucked into his pyjama bottoms and his dark curls still slightly wet from the bath they had earlier.

Climbing onto the mattress beside us, he cuddles up to me and I gently pull him closer while we listen to his sister finishing the story.

Ben has always been the quieter one of the two. He is more reserved and shy when meeting new people, and the only time he seems to be able to relax and enjoy himself thoroughly is in the company of his sister.

Emiliana, on the other hand, is self-confidence personified and she manages to surprise even me every now and then with her straightforward attitude. She loves acting out her favourite stories and invents new ones ever so often which she then tells Ben and me during bathtime. Her childish and unlimited imagination is so refreshing and captivating; I find myself trying to absorb her attitude sometimes before going back on stage at the Donmar Warehouse, where I am currently starring in a play.

 

Quietly, I walk downstairs into the kitchen after having tucked my children into bed. Adding the cheese to the almost finished lasagne, I place it in the oven and go back up to take a shower and get dressed again. I choose a pair of black trousers and a simple white button-down shirt before my gaze falls upon my reflection in the mirror.

I sigh as I see one of my wife’s necklaces hanging from the top left corner of the ornate white mirror frame. It’s a thin silver necklace with the pendant of a scissor which I had given to her after she had won her first Oscar for Best Costume shortly before her 30th birthday. That was seven years ago.

A lot has happened since then.

A lot has changed.

 

The ringing of the oven alarm interrupts my thoughts and I quickly walk downstairs to turn it off. It’s shortly before eight and my dinner guest will be with me any minute. Distracting myself from waiting, I start setting the table on the patio, adding wine glasses and a jug of minty water at the end. For a moment I think about placing a candle in the middle of the wooden table but decide against it. _That might be a bit overstated._

Satisfied with my plain but rather elegant table setting with the white porcelain plates and the polished silver cutlery, I go back inside. The smell of the lasagne wafting through the kitchen makes my mouth water and I check the salad in the fridge to distract me from the silent grumbling of my stomach. The silver bowl filled with the healthy side dish sits ready on the top shelf, the glass jug of vinaigrette right next to it, ready to be poured.

 

A knock on the white front door announces the arrival of my guest and I hurry to open it for her.

”Hey, good to see you. I hope you found it alright?!,” I smile and step aside to let her enter the house. “Yes, your description of the route was pretty self-explanatory, thanks a lot,” she replies, beaming and I take her light summer jacket to put it on a clothes hanger next to the door which is already filled with pink and light blue children’s coats, before she hands me a bottle of wine.

“Oh thanks, you shouldn’t have,” I smile gratefully.

“Yes I should, Tom. You are cooking dinner after all. Which smells delicious by the way,” she mumbles in reply as we make our way into the kitchen.

”Thank you. I hope it will taste just as good. But I’ve been told by my most honest judges in form of two five year olds that my lasagne is a pretty decent dish,” I wink and gesture towards the patio.

”I hope you don’t mind eating outside?,” I add and look at her questioningly.

”No, not at all,” she smiles brightly before we step out onto the wooden patio.

”You’ve got a beautiful house, Tom.” She looks at me, her eyes oozing honesty and her skin glowing golden in the light of the evening sun.

”Thank you very much,” I smile in reply. “I’m afraid I can’t take any credit for the tasteful decorations and furnishing though. It’s got my wife’s name written all over it. Well, except for the toys. These are obviously the carefully placed finishing touches of my children.” She looks at me compassionately and I have to take a deep breath to regain my full composure again.

 

Four years are not enough to take away all the pain and maybe it will never go away. But I still hope that one day it will hurt a little less.

”Let me guess, the trampoline was your idea though,” she winks, trying to get rid of the traces of sadness hovering in the air around us. I blush a little. Getting it had really been my idea although Emiliana and Benjamin had of course been enthusiastic supporters of this purchase.

”Well…maybe,” I grin sheepishly, causing us both to laugh heartily.

 

”Daddy?,” I hear the quiet, whiny voice of my son from inside the house and I smile at her apologetically.

”Excuse me for a moment,” I mumble and pick up our now empty plates to take them inside with me. She nods understandingly, one of the strands of her hair falling into her face and she brushes it away quickly. I get up and walk inside, met by the grey, teary eyes of my son peeking at me over the banister as he stands on the last stair.

”What’s wrong, Ben?,” I ask gently, placing the dirty dishes onto the kitchen counter, and look at him lovingly as he bursts into tears once more.

”I…I had…I had an accident,” he sobs and buries his face in his tiny hands.

”Hey shh…that’s nothing to be so upset about, darling,” I whisper soothingly and kiss him on the forehead before I gently take one of his hands.

”Come on, let’s get you changed.”

Caressing the back of his hand with my thumb, we walk back onto the first floor to his room where I quickly change the bed linen and help him choose new pyjamas before we shower him off and get him dressed again.

”There we go, all nice and comfy again,” I smile as he climbs back onto his bed. Standing wobbly on his legs, he wraps his arms around me and nuzzles his face into my chest. His breathing is still a little uneven from crying and I slowly stroke along his back to calm him down.

”I love you, Ben,” I whisper into the silence and I can only barely hear his reply mumbled against my shirt.

”I love you too, Daddy!”


	3. Chapter 2

“So, how did you two meet, Elizabeth and you?,” she asks, the glow of the little fairy lights, illuminating the garden around us, reflected in her now even darker eyes. I take another careful sip of my blood red wine before I answer.

“We met at Uni. I was just starting my first year, she was in her second already and we happened to have classes in the same building despite studying something different...”

_“I’ll see you at the party later, Tom!,” my friend Alex smiles, already jogging down the hallway to get to his next class on time whereas I, being finished for the day, am in no hurry to leave the museum. Carefully avoiding rushing students and art-loving tourists, I walk up the stairs, breathing in the dusty, heavy smell of art and history around me until I end up on the first floor of the Fitzwilliam Museum. I know the room ahead of me quite well already. Despite spending a decent amount of time at the library, I also come to the Fitzwilliam Museum ever so often to look at the paintings and portraits. I love the atmosphere here. It’s always quiet, except for the occasional padding of shoes on the light brown wooden floor or the quiet mumbling from an audio guide turned up too loud. Nevertheless, it helps me to calm down, collect my thoughts, reflect on whatever has been bothering or upsetting me in the last days._

_The room featuring British Art from the 16th to the 18th century, one of my favourite rooms, is almost empty today. An older couple stands huddled together in front of a landscape painting at the far end of the room, discussing either the artist’s mistakes or achievements._  
 _Other than that, only one other young woman sits cross-legged on the floor right beside the double doors through which I entered the room, a drawing pad on her lap and a number of pencils and other utensils arranged on the floor in front of her._

_Every now and then she looks up from her creation at the painting on the wall in front of her. ‘The Hon. Mrs Nathaniel Curzon; Hone, Nathaniel I; painter; British artist, 1718-1784; painting; 1778’ it says on the little explanatory display at the bottom right corner and I study it for a moment before I look at her sitting on the floor again._

_With swift movements, her hand moves the pencil over the piece of paper and the shape and outlines of the dress of the Hon. Mrs Curzon can be seen appearing on the blank page shortly after. Bit by bit, stroke by stroke, smudge by smudge, she adds wrinkles, shadows, texture to the dress and the dress only, leaving the identity of the wearer unknown. I am amazed at the speed she is drawing at, totally oblivious to those around her, or rather, oblivious to me staring at her rather blatantly._

_She stops for a moment and looks at the collection of pencils in front of her. She drops the one she had been drawing with and chooses another, the sudden movement of her picking it up, causing another one to roll away. She tries to get after it without having to get up while I bend down and pick it up, handing it to her with a shy smile._

_“There we go,” I mumble and she takes the pencil from me with the most beautiful smile I have ever seen. It’s not only her lips smiling, it’s her whole face, her eyes, everything seems to light up at that very moment._  
 _“Thank you so much,” she replies with a slight accent, still beaming at me widely._  
 _“You’re welcome,” I smile myself now before pointing at her drawing._

_“That looks incredible by the way.” She looks down at it, causing a few strands of her raven black hair to fall out of her messy French braid._  
 _“Oh well, it’s not perfect. I still have a lot to learn,” she confesses and a slight blush creeps over her face, making her look even more adorable now._

_“Do you study Art?,” I ask, unsure as whether to bother her further or leave her alone to allow her to finish her drawing. But then, she doesn’t seem to mind the interruption._  
 _“History of Art, yes,” she confirms with a nod. “But this is just for myself, not for any class. I just love drawing and clothes and costumes of all sorts.” Again, she is blushing and I cannot help but smile at her. “Sorry, that was probably more than you wanted to know.” Her gaze drops to her drawing pad again while she nervously fumbles with the pencil in her hand._  
 _“No, not at all,” I try to reassure her, hesitating for a moment before I go on, “Are you just interested in drawing clothes and costumes or do you like wearing them as well?”_

_Her grey eyes, sparkling clear as a mountain well, find mine again, questioning and surprised._  
 _“Well, I...I guess I like wearing them as well. Why?” She still seems confused although the smile never fully leaves her lips. I chuckle lightly, trying to hide my embarrassment._  
 _“Sorry, I should explain myself. There is a fancy dress party at the Pembroke College Bar tonight. The topic is ‘La commedia dell’arte’ and...well, I thought you might be interested in going, seeing that you like costumes.” Now I can feel myself blushing. I don’t even know her and yet I just invited her to attend a party with me. Shoving my hands into the pockets of my trousers, I nervously bite my bottom lip, averting my eyes from her enquiring gaze. I’m definitely not an expert at playing the dating game._

_“I would love to go,” she replies and, I have to be honest, her answer takes me quite by surprise. I had not expected her to say yes and yet she did._  
 _“You would? Oh wow...great,” I mumble quickly and beam at her, before ruffling through my blond curls. “Ehm, so it starts at 8 tonight. Shall I pick you up somewhere?”_  
 _She nods gratefully before she rips out a piece of paper from her drawing pad and scribbles something on it._

_Carefully placing her drawing pad on the wooden floor, she gets up and I quickly offer her my hand which she takes with a thankful smile._  
 _“That’s where I live. It’s pretty close to campus, just off Pembroke Street actually.” She hands me the note with her address on it and I notice her beautiful, almost calligraphic, handwriting. For a moment I simply look at the few words, memorising them instantly, engraving them to my memory._  
 _“I’m Elizabeth by the way,” she adds, holding out her slender hand for me to shake. The tip of her middle finger is a little smudged from her blurring the shadows on her drawing but I don’t mind. Gently, I take hers in mine, her skin soft against my own palm._  
 _“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Elizabeth. I’m Thomas,” I reply and look at her fascinating eyes again, already in love with the feeling of drowning in their sheer endless depth._

“She looked adorable that night in her voluminous, pink dress with the little black cape. She looked perfect,” I mumble and take another sip of my almost empty wine, remembering the night of the party almost twenty years ago as if it had been just yesterday.

The little click from the dictaphone being turned off brings me back to reality, to the present time. With a shy smile on my lips I look at her, the expression in her eyes a mixture of amazement, nostalgia, and understanding.

We both look away as the front door is being opened and my 23 year old German Au-Pair Paula enters the house as quietly as possible. She smiles as she sees us sitting on the patio and, having left her shoes and jacket near the door, she comes out to say hello.

“Paula, this is Maya, the author I’m working with. Maya, this is Paula, my lovely Au-Pair and knight in shining armour when it comes to housework and children,” I smile and introduce both women to each other.  
“It’s a pleasure to meet you Maya,” the young girl smiles warmly and shakes my interlocutor’s hand.  
“The pleasure is all mine, Paula,” she replies before looking back at me apologetically.

“It’s quite late, would you mind if we continue another time?,” she asks tentatively and I immediately shake my head.  
“No, of course not. Sorry, I completely forgot the time.” I get up alongside her, while Paula goes back into the house and presumably up to her room, after wishing Maya a good night.

“Would you like me to call you a taxi?,” I ask while we walk down the hallway to the front door.  
“No, I’m here by car, thank you.” Smiling she looks up at me while I get her coat from the hanger and help her into it.  
“Thank you very much for the lovely evening, Tom. The food was excellent and...and I can’t wait to hear more of your story,” she adds, turning back round to face me.

“Thank you for listening, Maya. It’s quite liberating to talk about it, to be honest. I thought it might hurt but it’s actually rather nice.” I smile at her thankfully before we say our goodbyes and she leaves the house with my promise to call her whenever I want to continue.

I take a deep breath and close the front door before walking back to the garden to tidy up the remains of our dinner. The padding of feet on the stairs announces Paula and her mass of curly, blond hair lighting up the semi-dark kitchen moments after proves me right.  
“Did you have a good day?,” I smile, stacking the dishwasher with our empty plates and wine glasses. “There’s lasagne left if you’re hungry,” I quickly add and she smiles gratefully, helping herself to a bit of the dish.

“I had a great day, thanks. Went to the British Museum with some friends. How was yours?” Leaning her long, slender frame against the counter she looks at me while eating the cold lasagne.

She’s been living with me for almost 8 months now and even though I had been a bit reluctant at first about the idea of having a stranger living in my house and caring for my children while I’m at work, I could not have wished for a better person. Despite her age, she is incredibly reliable and both Emiliana and Ben simply adore her, making it a little easier for me to leave them at home with her whenever I have to be on stage again.

“Good. Really relaxed actually,” I smile and turn the dishwasher on before looking back at her. “I had to change Ben’s bed linen again, just so you know. I’m a bit worried about him, to be honest.” With a sigh, I let my hand run through my curly hair before resting it on the cold, flat surface of the sink behind me.  
“You know what he’s like, Tom. He worries a lot, even at such a young age. Maybe he just needs a Daddy-day. I wouldn’t read too much into it,” Paula tries to reassure me and I nod. She is right, he really seems to worry about a lot of things.

“Maybe a trip to the coast might be in order,” I mumble and look back at her. “You are more than welcome to join us.”  
A thankful smile appears on her lips. “Thanks, I’d love to. But only if I get my revenge for the sand castle competition.” Her laugh, dark and husky, fills the room and I quickly join in. “Oh you mean the one where you so gallantly lost last time? Sure, I’m in,” I grin widely and she sticks her tongue out at me playfully.

_Today was definitely one of the good days._


	4. Chapter 3

“Daddy?”

“Daaaaddy?”

Exhaling audibly, I open my eyes and I am immediately met by two identical pairs of grey ones, looking at me expectantly. The owners of these eyes stand in front of my bed, both with their favourite cuddly toy stuffed under their arms, their dark curly hair standing up in all directions.

It was Emiliana’s whisper that had woken me up and without saying anything, I lift up the blankets and they both climb into bed with me, one on my left, the other on my right.

“Morning, you two,” I mumble, still sleepy and despite fatigue resting heavily on my eyelids, I smile at my children lovingly.

“Morning, Daddy,” Ben mumbles in reply and snuggles up to me, his tiny, fragile frame fitting perfectly next to my slender and lanky one. I press a soft kiss onto his forehead and repeat the same with Emiliana who grins widely before turning over on her side, using my arm as her pillow and promptly falling asleep again within seconds.

 

A quick look at my alarm reminds me that it’s Saturday and we are therefore in no rush to get up. Instead we can enjoy the pleasure of a lie-in and I am determined to make good use of that.

“Ben? What do you think about going away during half term? We could go down to the coast,” I suggest quietly and look at my son.

“Don’t you have to be at the theatre daddy?,” he whispers in reply and moves up a bit so his face is closer to mine. His eyes, framed by long, curved lashes which he inherited from his mother, gleam silver in the morning light and his soft skin looks slightly tanned after all these afternoons he must have spent playing in the garden with Paula and Emiliana.

Smiling, I shake my head a little. “Nope. I have my last performance next week and then I have plenty of time to spend with the two of you again.”

His smile turns into an incredibly wide grin, showing his little, white denticles, making my heart ache a little because me being away three afternoons and four evenings a week to perform at the Donmar seems to be harder for him than I thought.

 

“So will you be able to pick us up from Hornsby House together with Paula?,” he smiles excitedly while snuggling up closer to me, his small hand resting on my chest, right above my heart while his cuddly toy, a kangaroo named Bouncy, is being squished between us.

I laugh quietly. “Yes, I will pick you up from Hornsby House with Paula. Or maybe we could give Paula a day off every now and then, eh?” His smile falters a little.

“But I want her to pick me up every day as well,” he mumbles, clearly disappointed at my suggestion.

“You like her a lot, hm?,” I smile and let my hand run through his dark mass of curls, feeling their softness underneath my fingertips. He nods solemnly.

“She can play the piano. And she wants to show me how to play it, too,” he replies, eyes glistening again.

“Is that the hint at me that I have to tidy the dining room, so you can use the piano forte?,” I laugh quietly and he buries his face in the crook of my neck, laughing himself while he nods. “Ok, I’ll do that later then,” I mumble lovingly and press a kiss onto his hair.

——

“Come on you two or I’ll be leaving without you!,” I shout a while later as I stand next to the front door, ready to leave. After a proper lie-in followed by an extra long breakfast and some play-time, they now want to go to the park to test their new ‘Explorer Kits’ I had gotten them for their birthday a few weeks back but so far I seem to be the only one ready and willing to leave the house.

“Coming Daddy!,” I hear Emiliana shout from upstairs and just seconds later the two of them come trampling down the stairs causing me to shake my head with a smile. “I think even the neighbours heard that, you little elephants,” I grin, shooing them out of the door and into the car where we listen to their newest audiobook on the way to Richmond Park.

It’s a little further away than some other London parks but it’s the biggest one around and a little less crowded than Battersea Park or Regent’s Park. And apart from that, it will probably give them the most opportunities to use their bug viewers and binoculars, which they have already been testing in our garden with more or less success.

 

“Emmy, Ben, stay with me please,” I plead while getting their little rucksacks out of the car together with the basket of picnic supplies that Paula has gotten ready for us earlier before she left to spend the day with friends. _She truly is a darling and I have to make sure I thank her for that._ But for now my attention is on my children who are eager to leave the parking lot and enter the park ahead of us.

Crossing the road with both children holding my hands, I smile at a group of women standing a little further down the pavement, looking at me, phones and cameras at the ready, obviously unsure whether to approach me or not. Even though I am grateful to have fans and being appreciated as an actor, this is one of the moments where I hope they leave me be. This day is meant to be for my little ones and I rather not share it with my mostly polite but sometimes clingy army of fans.

They seem to have heard my internal prayers as they simply wave shortly as I nod at them with a smile and let us wander off into the park without disturbing us. Once I consider the distance from the road big enough, I let go off Ben’s and Emmy’s hand and they both start to unpack their little explorer kits from their rucksacks.

 

“Whoah, I even got something to drink in my water bottle,” Ben mumbles, obviously surprised that I equipped their black plastic bottles with apple juice.

“Me too,” my daughter squeals with delight before placing the binocular’s strap around her neck in order to have them available when she needs them.

Grinning proudly, I bite my lip as I watch them. For a moment, they seem to have forgotten that I am still there, standing next to them, so excited are they about the content of their bags. I love the fact that they still get so excited about little things like a bottle filled with apple juice or a bug viewer or some magnifier glasses. And even though I like to spoil my children from time to time, like all parents do, I believe, I still try to raise them as modest, polite, and grateful human beings.

 

The sun is shining brightly from the clear blue sky as we walk further into the enormous park. Birds are singing in the trees and a little further in the distance, deer are lying in the grass, enjoying the sunshine themselves.

“Daddy wait for me!,” Emmy whines a little while trying to work out how to use her binoculars properly.

Smiling, I stop in my tracks and look at her, holding out my hand towards my 5 year old daughter.

“Let’s go to the rocks over there, Sweety. You’ll have a better view from there,” I answer, looking at Ben quickly, who is already walking ahead of us.

“My legs are tired,” she sighs and looks up at me pleadingly with her shining grey eyes.

“Oh are they?,” I smirk and she nods, supporting her answer with an exhausted huff.

“Well, come on then,” I mumble and pick her gently up into my arms where she immediately snuggles up to me, burying her face in the crook of my neck, making me smile contentedly.

Picking up the picnic basket with my other hand, I follow Ben who is already trying to climb onto one of the rocks to get a better view of the deer lounging in the distance.

 

“Tom?,” I can hear a surprised voice saying behind me, just as Emmy, Ben, and I set up our picnic on the bank of the lake. Shading my eyes with my hand, I turn around.

“Maya! Hey, what are you doing here?,” I reply, smiling while the woman in front of me gets off her bike and walks towards us.

“I just went for a little ride. Trying to make the most of the good weather,” she answers, while my children look at her with curious but also somehow wary looks.

I nod understandingly before adding quickly, “Oh sorry! Maya, these are my lovely little rascals Emiliana and Benjamin. Emmy, Ben, this is Maya, the lady I told you about who helps me write the book about your Mummy.” Ben smiles at her a little shyly while Emmy, realising that it’s okay to talk to her, beckons her to sit on the blanket with us.

“Daddy made sandwiches, Maya. Do you want one? He’s made loooooaaads,” she laughs her clear, joyful laugh, her dark curls bouncing up and down with her every move.

A little embarrassed, Maya wipes a strand of her hair out of her face. “Well, I’m sure they’re great but…”

I interrupt her, smiling, “Feel free to join us, if you want to. Unless you have other plans of course.”

Still a bit hesitant, she looks at us before carefully placing her bike on the floor and sitting down next to Emiliana, who so gallantly offered her a place on the blanket. Ben immediately crawls closer to me and I chuckle lightly. He is always so very jealous when Emmy’s attention is focused on somebody else and not her beloved twin brother.

 

While my daughter makes sure that Maya tries one of my handmade sandwiches, I look at my son lovingly.

“What would you like to eat, Ben? Do you want a sandwich or would you like some fruit?,” I ask quietly and let my hand run gently through his dark curls.

“I would like some grapes, please,” he mumbles and lets his head rest against my side while I pull a little plastic bowl out of our picnic basket and hand it to him.

 

I look up as I hear Maya’s clear laughter and smile instantly. Obviously Emiliana is telling her one of her made-up stories again and the young woman seems to enjoy it greatly. She blushes a little as she realises that my eyes are on her before she brushes a strand of her hair behind her ear. She does that a lot and for some reason, I find this little gesture incredibly endearing. Emiliana draws her attention away from me again and I use her distraction to let my eyes rest on her for a little longer.

The dark blue summer dress compliments her light skin tone and makes her look almost a little pin-up like with her blond curls and bright red lips. She is everything that Elizabeth wasn’t when it comes to looks. Where Ellie was dark and exotic, Maya is bright and almost Scandinavian in her appearance. Maybe this is one of the reasons why talking to her about my deceased wife is so much easier. Because she doesn’t remind me of her all the time.

 

“Daddy? Can I go closer to the water? I want to find a frog,” my 5 year old son informs me and I look back at him with a gentle smile.

“I’m not sure you’ll find a frog here, darling. But you can have a look if you want to,” I offer and he nods his little head before shoving another grape into his mouth.

“Emmy, I want to find a frog. Do you want to come with me?,” he mumbles in his sister’s direction, still a little shy because of Maya sitting right next to her. Looking at me with her bright grey eyes, obviously checking if they are allowed to go there, she then nods at Ben and gets up, smoothing her summer dress while doing so.

“But be careful, you two,” I smile, lovingly and with a wave they shout a “Yes Daddy,” before they run the few remaining metres down to the pond.

 

“They are truly adorable,” Maya smiles, her eyes resting on my children.

“Yes…yes they are,” I nod, proudly and look at her. “They are my everything,” I add a little shyly and fumble with the bowl of grapes which Ben had shoved into my hands before running off.

Feeling her gaze on me, I look back up at the young women next to me.

“Did you get home alright, yesterday?,” I enquire with a smile and she nods immediately.

“I did. Thank you so much for this lovely evening. I suppose it can’t be easy bringing all those memories back and I just wanted to let you know that I truly appreciate it, that I appreciate you trusting me that much,” she confesses, her expression earnest but grateful at the same time.

I squeeze her hand, which is lying on the blanket next to mine, gently. “Thank you for listening to it, Maya.” I let my gaze drift for a moment before quietly adding, “It’s funny, but even though I know you for pretty much one day only, I…I feel like there’s something that connects us.” I smile at her a little shyly. “I hope this doesn’t come across wrongly but I just feel like you understand what I’m talking about and why I’m talking about it.”

 

Her dark, brown, chocolaty eyes are resting on me, following my every move and yet I don’t feel scrutinised. She’s got this warmth about her, the way she looks at me, the way she talks and moves. She oozes compassion without being pitiful, making me feel very comfortable in her presence.

“I am very glad you feel that way, Tom,” she mumbles, blushing a bit. “And to be honest, I could listen to you talking about her forever. True love is so rare nowadays. I am glad that among the hectic everyday life, the two of you still had this wonderful bond and love which connected you.”

I contemplate her words for a moment before nodding with a smile on my lips. She’s got an eye for things. I guess I already know I could not have chosen a better person to write our story down.

 

For a moment we sit in silence, watching Emmy and Ben by the water, who keep throwing little stones into the pond before watching the little waves grow bigger and bigger until they merge and dissolve.

“Maya, would you be up for a movie night with the three of us? It’s ‘The Jungle Book’ tonight,” I mumble hesitantly, not sure whether she is ready for an evening with me and my children and probably more stories about Elizabeth.

“Are you joking? I absolutely love that film! It’s been my favourite ever since I watched it as a child,” she beams at me and I chuckle lightly.

“What a coincidence. It’s my favourite, too. And now my children’s as well,” I grin and offer her a grape which she takes with a thankful smile.

“I guess that’s settled then,” Maya winks before we fall into a comfortable silence only occasionally disrupted by my children’s excited squeals and screams.


	5. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The words quoted by Tom&Elizabeth are not mine but William Shakespeare’s and can be found in Romeo&Juliet, Act I, Scene V

_“What are you reading?,” she mumbles with a smile before she sits down on the sofa next to me, a steaming hot cup of tea in her hands._

_“I’m practising my lines for Romeo & Juliet,” I reply with a smile, putting the script down for a moment to look at her. She’s wearing one of my University of Cambridge sweaters over a pair of shorts and her dark hair is ruffled, proving that she just got up. Still, after a year, I have no idea how she manages to look cute and sexy at the same time but here she is, doing just that._

_The Michaelmas term is coming to an end and the day of the play is therefore coming closer and closer. It’s going to be my first theatre production at Cambridge and I am nervous even though I know my lines and we’ve rehearsed it often in the last few weeks._

_One part of the play I am still a bit anxious about is the kisses the director had added in the first and last Act of the play. Not because I have a problem with kissing a woman but rather with kissing a woman while my girlfriend is watching us from the side of the stage._

_Elizabeth is responsible for our costumes for this play and is therefore around at all times to help us change and adjust the occasional piece of clothing in between times on stage._

_“What part are you practising at the moment?,” she smiles and, putting down the cup on the low table in front of us, she snuggles up to me, peering at the script in my lap. I blush a little while she grins._

_“Uhhh, the first kissing scene.” Her laughter fills the room and I hit her gently on the leg with the stack of paper in my hands._

_“You’re enjoying that, huh?,” I grumble and look at her, even though I cannot even pretend I’m mad at her when she looks at me like that._

 

_Her grey, bright eyes are glittering like diamonds in the bright winter sun which is pooling in through the large double windows of my living room._

_“You want to tell me you aren’t?,” she grins, pressing feathery light kisses on my jawline and cheek. Biting my lip, I close my eyes and enjoy her caresses. “We could practise together if you want to,” I can hear her whisper into my ear, her hot breath tickling my skin and sending shivers down my spine._

_“That does sound tempting indeed,” I mumble a little breathless and with a swift move I pull her onto my lap, her slender legs on either side of mine._

_“If I profane with my unworthiest hand this holy shrine, the gentle fine is this: my lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand to smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss,” I whisper, her lips a mere few millimetres away, her breath tickling my lips._

_She smiles before she replies with Juliet’s words, “Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much, which mannerly devotion shows in this; for saints have hands that pilgrims’ hands do touch, and palm to palm is holy palmers’ kiss.” Intertwining her hands with mine, she mumbles the words against my skin, making it tingle and ache for more._

_“Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too?,” I smile Romeo’s innocent smile._

_“Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer.” Her eyebrows are shooting up in mocking rebuke and slowly, ever so slowly, I let my hands run down her arms, along her sides, until I let them rest on her slender thighs._

_“O, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do; they pray, grant thou, lest faith turn to despair.” Gently, I let my fingertips run along her skin, drawing circles on her thighs, as these words leave my lips and with a smile I register her growing arousal as her hands move into my curls, fingertips rasping lightly across my scalp._

_“Saints do not move, though grant for prayers’ sake,” she mumbles, her eyes fluttering shut as I stroke along the inside of her thigh just along the hemline of her shorts while she presses her upper body with her soft, large breasts against my chest._

_“Then move not, while my prayer’s effect I take. Thus from my lips, by yours, my sin is purged,” I breathe, moving my lips across her neck, up along her jaw, all the way to that sensitive spot behind her ear._

_“Then have my lips the sin that they have took.” I inhale sharply, as she licks slowly along the shell of my ear before sucking lightly on my earlobe, causing a quiet moan to leave my lips._

_“Sin from thy lips? O trespass sweetly urged! Give me my sin again,” I breathe, my lips finding hers at last in an urgent and passionate release, while I bury one of my hands in her long, dark locks, her slender body fitting perfectly against mine._

_I sigh into the kiss, as she lets her hand run through my hair again, through the golden curls she loves so much and which I gladly keep for her. Gently, I start sucking on her luscious bottom lip before my tongue enters her mouth, exploring every millimetre of it until we’re both in need of air._

_  
_ _“You kiss by the book,” Elizabeth whispers against my lips, quoting Juliet again, breathlessly but smiling after we part quite some time later._

_“But only you, I can assure you. Romeo won’t be that passionate with his Juliet,” I smile reassuringly, kissing her again lovingly._

_“Well, I hope not,” she grins, biting her lip mischievously. “But maybe…you need to practice that again?”_

_My eyebrows shoot up at her suggestion before I grin widely. “You know, actually I should practise that again. Just to make sure I remember the words…”_

  
  


With a sigh I put my ragged and much-used copy of  _William Shakespeare’s Romeo & Juliet_ back onto the shelf amidst the copies of his other works which I have acquired over the years.

Next to me, Maya lets her slender fingers run over the spines of some of my other books, all sorted alphabetically and chronologically in my little library situated along one long wall of our dining room.

 

I let my eyes follow her for a moment. She’s not wearing the dark blue summer dress from the park earlier anymore but instead a pair of beige slacks and a teal coloured blouse, accentuating her slim waist and fair skin.

“You’ve got quite a nice collection here,” she smiles at me over her shoulder before carefully taking out a copy of Kipling’s  _Twenty Poems._

“Yes, buying books is probably one of my bad habits. Or good ones, depends on how you see it,” I grin and step behind her to look over her shoulder.

“It’s definitely a good one,” Maya mumbles and flicks through the old book carefully until she finds what she was obviously looking for.

 

“ _If_ ,” I read aloud and she nods with a sad smile.

“I love that poem. Ever have done so since…- well, for a while.” I can literally feel the reluctance in her voice and slowly, carefully, I place my hand on her shoulder, which seems to relax her a little.

“It’s a beautiful poem,” I agree, whispering. For a moment we both read the words silently in our heads before she closes it carefully and puts the book back on the shelf right next to my copy of  _The Jungle Book_  and Keats’  _Collected Poems_. She rests her fingertips on the spine for a little longer, not ready to let go yet while the curtain of blond curls makes it impossible for me to see her face.

 

“Maya? Are you okay?,” I ask quietly, a little nervous that I might overstep a boundary which I have no right to overstep. I squeeze her shoulder lightly, as she shakes her head almost invisibly.

Still, I am surprised when she turns towards me, cheeks wet with tears, her bottom lip quivering ever so slightly.

“Hey,” I mumble and pull her gently into an embrace which she responds to gladly. Her arms snake around my body and I hold her, letting my hand run along her spine, trying to calm her down a bit.

 

“I’m so sorry, Tom,” she whispers against my shirt after a while before carefully breaking away from me. “I’m sorry,” Maya repeats and gently I wipe a tear away from her flushed cheek.

“There’s nothing to be sorry for,” I reassure her and she looks up to me, her dark, brown eyes clouded with sadness and memories.

 

“You can talk to me if you want to. I’ll listen. Just like you listen to me.” Gently, I lead her to our big, comfy sofa covered with pillows, blankets, and some of my children’s toys. I push them to the side and sit down with her, my arm draped around her shoulder, slowly stroking along her bare skin just above her elbow.

Grabbing a tissue from the side table, I offer it to her and she takes it with a faint smile.

“I don’t want to bother you with my…with my emotional baggage,” the young woman mumbles a little shyly and I chuckle quietly.

“You’re not bothering me, Maya. I want to be of help, just like you are helping me. I know we still have to get to know each other more but…I trust you and I hope you feel the same way about me.”

Again, she looks up at me, the sadness in her eyes fading away a bit and instead it’s replaced with gratitude.

 

“I do Tom,” she smiles slightly before looking down at the crumpled tissue in her hands, smile fading again.“I had a twin brother called Eric. He died shortly after our twentieth birthday because an older woman lost control over her car on a rainy night. ‘If’ was his favourite poem and I read it at his funeral.”

 

Again, tears start flowing down her rosy cheeks and she wipes them away almost furiously while I tenderly stroke along her arm.

I can feel her loss. I’ve been there myself.

“It’s okay to cry. Crying helps to release the tension,” I mumble, pulling her gently closer and she leans onto my chest, one hand holding onto my shirt as if she is afraid of falling if she ever let go. Her irregular sobs break the silence in the house occasionally while the sounds of the city race by outside the window.


	6. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

“Ladies first,” I smile at Paula before she enters the school playground. It is a wonderful sunny, early summer’s day and I enjoy the fact that I can pick up my children from nursery now that my engagement at the Donmar is finished and I am free to do what I want all day.

Shoving my hands into the pockets of my trousers, I look around, nodding to a few of the other parents in greeting. I recognise a few of them but as it’s mainly Paula who is doing the school runs, my knowledge in regard to their names is rather limited.

 

“Tom, hey! So good to see you again. It has been a while since you’ve graced us with your presence!” A heavily styled-up woman approaches me with a beaming, artificial smile, patting my arm gently. I smile politely and take a quick glance at Paula.

“Hi Clara, how is Adam?,” she asks, helping me out. Oh, I do remember Adam very well. He had been over for a playdate a few months back and refused pretty much everything that Paula offered him for dinner, demanding a bag of Walker’s and Coca Cola instead. Spoilt child.

Clara smiles at her shortly, obviously not interested in talking to my au pair before her heavily painted eyes fall on me again.  
“Good, good, thank you. I was wondering whether you’d like to come over with...with your children one day, Tom,” she asks, her perfectly white teeth gleaming in the sun, obviously meant to distract from the fact that she cannot even remember my children’s names.

“I’ll have to check my diary,” I answer politely and she nods, understandingly.  
“Of course. You are a busy man. Well, let me know when you’d be free. You are welcome any time,” she beams at me, her hand with her perfectly manicured, red nails gliding along my arm again before she leaves Paula and me alone.

 

I turn towards the 23 year old beside me and she simply shrugs her shoulders with a smirk while the doors of the nursery building are being opened.  
I sigh theatrically, causing Paula to laugh, and we both scan the group of children who are waiting next to the teacher to be picked up.

“That’s our daddy and our nanny,” Emiliana smiles, tugging at her teacher’s sleeve and pointing at us, Ben standing closely behind her.  
“Of you go then. Have a great weekend, you two, and I see you on Monday,” she returns the smile, looking at me shortly, before she ruffles my children’s hair and bids them goodbye.

“Hey,” I grin widely and crouch down to welcome my twins in my arms.  
“Daddy!,” Emmy shouts and jumps at me, causing me to fall over on my bum. Ben’s crystal clear laugh echoes around the playground and I smile at him sheepishly, still holding my daughter in my arms.

“Very elegant, Tom,” Paula grins, her arm protectively around Benjamin who is still laughing loudly at my clumsiness.

 

Is there a better sound in the world than hearing your child laughing? I don’t think so.  
And for me it’s even more precious because it’s coming from Ben.  
Don’t get me wrong, I love both my children equally, but I know that Ben is having a harder time growing up without his mum.  
Or maybe Emmy is just better at hiding it, I don’t know.

But he is oftentimes so quiet and reserved that I worry about him. A lot. And then I blame myself for not giving him enough reasons to laugh. I blame myself for not being able to be mum and dad at the same time. I blame myself for not being there for him 24/7.

And then there are moments like this, where I do something stupid without even wanting to and he laughs, loud and clear. I love moments like these.

 

“Daddy, you’ve got a dirty bum now,” Emmy grins, still sitting on top of me, her dark curls sticking out to all sides.  
“It appears I do,” I laugh and tickle her lightly before getting up, holding her in my arms.

I smile at Paula thankfully, as she picks up Ben, who already tells her all about his day.  
“...and then we were allowed to play football outside even after the break was over and I was the keeper and I saved three times,” he explains excitedly, holding up three of his tiny fingers.

“Three times? No way! That’s brilliant, Ben! Shall we play in the garden later as well?,” the young girl asks, admiringly, while we leave the school playground and walk home.  
He nods with a huge smile on his lovely face, making my heart melt at the sight of it.

“Okay, it will be you and me and Emmy against your dad and I am pretty, pretty sure we’ll beat him,” Paula ‘whispers’ into his ear, loud enough for me to hear of course.  
“Did you hear that, Daddy? We’ll beat you,” Emiliana laughs, snuggling up to me, and I chuckle.  
“Well, we see about that,” I reply, sticking my tongue out at my au pair who simply laughs in unison with my children.  
“How grown up, Mr Hiddleston,” she mumbles with a wink, giving the still laughing Ben a high five.

***

“Ben, darling, wash your hands please before you sit down,” Paula smiles at my son, ruffling lovingly through his hair while she places the bowl of salad on the garden table. We’ve been playing football all afternoon and, as predicted, Ben, Emmy, and Paula beat me mercilessly without leaving me a chance to score.

The winners now demand sustenance and I oblige ever so willingly, preparing cheeseburgers for the lot of us on the barbeque in the garden.  
“Daddy, can you tie my hair back? I don’t want it to end up on my burger.” Emiliana looks at me with her bright, grey eyes, pink hair tie in her little hand, holding it up to me.  
“Of course, Sweetheart,” I reply, smiling, before I go down onto my knees, carefully binding her curly locks together with the pink ribbon.

“There we go,” I finish, mumbling, and press a soft kiss onto her hair. Beaming, she turns around, throwing her arms around my neck.  
“I’m a monkey now and I won’t let you go,” she grins, clinging onto me with her legs as well, still dressed in her favourite Sleeping Beauty dress, which she had gotten changed into earlier.  
“A monkey, eh?,” I laugh. “Does that mean I can have your cheeseburger because you’ll eat bananas?”

I chuckle at the astonished expression on her face.  
“No, I’m a cheeseburger-eating monkey,” she exclaims laughing, while I get up, holding onto her lovingly.  
“Well, of course you are!,” I grin and carry her over to the patio door. “Come on, little monkey. Wash your hands and then it’s time for dinner!” Carefully, I put her down onto the wooden ground and watch her while she runs inside to join her brother in the bathroom.

 

Realising my eyes are not the only ones resting on her, I turn around to Paula, who smiles tenderly at them.  
“I am really glad that you picked me out of all applicants, Tom,” she mumbles, still smiling, and looks at me.  
“I am really glad I picked you as well, Paula. Are you sure you want to leave us after the year is over? You could always stay longer, you know.”

I can see her hesitating and, casting a quick glance at the barbeque ensuring that everything is alright with our food, I take one step closer to her.  
She nervously fumbles with the napkins in her hands before looking up at me.  
“Actually, I wanted to talk to you about it anyway,” she nods and with a gentle smile I encourage her to continue.

“I would love to stay longer, maybe even for another whole year if that were to be okay with you.”  
“Of course that would be okay. You’re excellent, Paula, and the children love you to pieces. You can stay as long as you want!,” I smile, happily, and she sighs, relieved.  
“Thank you,” she adds and, after a moment of hesitation, I pull her gently into my arms for a friendly embrace.  
“Thank you, Paula. I don’t know what I’d do without you,” I mumble, hoping that this level of intimacy does not make her feel uncomfortable.

 

“You’d probably still lose at football,” she replies with a teasing grin and I poke her slightly as we end the embrace.  
“Watch it, young lady. Next time, I’ll beat you!,” I chuckle as Benjamin and Emiliana come running back into the garden, hugging my legs.

“Alright, you monkeys, time for dinner,” I exclaim and they quickly take their seats, shrieking with excitement.  
“You sure you want to stay longer?,” I whisper at Paula with a wink and she laughs.  
“Never been surer of anything in my life!”


	7. Chapter 6

“Daddy, when will Maya come over again?,” Emiliana asks while climbing onto my lap after dinner. I gently help her up, making sure she doesn’t knock over my glass on the table.

“I don’t know, Emmy. Why do you ask?,” I smile, carefully wiping a few strands of her dark hair out of her face, while she plays with the neckline of my shirt, pulling it in this direction and that.

“Because I like her a lot. And she liked _The Jungle Book_ so I like her even more now,” my five year old daughter answers matter of factly as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

 

“Well, I could ask her over in the next days, if you want to. I’m sure she’d love to come,” I suggest, taking her little hand into mine, before she rips the fabric of my shirt.

“She could come over tonight and sleep in the tent in the garden with us, couldn’t she?” Her eyes find mine, looking hopeful and shimmering silver in the evening sun, and I smile.

“I can ask her,” I mumble and take my phone from the table, sending a quick message to Maya, all under the observant eyes of my daughter.

 

_Hey Maya, we’re having a sleepover in the garden tonight and we were wondering whether you’d like to join us. Tom, Paula, Emmy & Ben_

 

“Happy?,” I ask Emmy, smiling and she nods happily before snuggling up to me while Paula and Ben get up to start building up the two tents further back in the garden underneath the trees.

“Do you want to help them or shall we stay here?,” I whisper against Emiliana’s hair and her reply is just as quiet. “Let’s stay here and cuddle,” she mumbles, pressing a rather wet kiss onto my cheek. I look down at her lovingly, kissing her gently on the forehead in return.

“I love you, Emmy,” I breathe against her skin that smells of peaches and ‘her’ and is as soft as when she was a baby. “I love you, too, Daddy,” she smiles up at me, her white teeth showing and little dimples appearing on her cheeks. She truly is the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen and apart from the curls, she’s a spitting image of her mother.

 

We both look at my phone as it vibrates quietly and I pick it up from the table.

_I would absolutely love to join you! I’ll be with you shortly. Would you like me to bring anything? Maya xx_

“Aww, she’s coming,” Emmy squeals quietly, getting all excited about the young woman’s reply and I quickly send a message back.

_Just yourself, your PJs, and your favourite cuddly toy ;)_

***

“Come on, you two, it’s time to calm down now. It’s getting late,” I mumble as I open the tent’s opening for the fourth time this evening.

Inside, my children are lying on their blow up mattress, their cuddly toys propped up around them, while they are both giggling loudly. “But we’re not tired, Daddy,“ Emmy replies, looking at me with her best puppy dog face. I sigh with a smile, stroking her head gently. “Give it a try, sweetheart!,” I plead and kiss both on the forehead before wishing them a good night again.

 

“It’s all way too exciting, isn’t it,” Maya smiles, as I sit down next to her on the garden swing again. I nod, ruffling through my hair.

“It most definitely is,” I agree and take another sip of my wine.

“Then let’s hope we’ll be able to sleep later,” she adds with a smirk and I raise my eyebrow, amused. “What if not?,” I ask, looking at her expectantly.

 

“You could read me a story,” Maya winks, sipping her own wine. I smile in response, looking at her in the pale glow of the candles on the table. The flicker of the little flame glows in her chocolate brown orbs like the reflection of the moon in a lake.

 

“What kind of story would you like to hear?,” I mumble, a gentle smile on my lips. She contemplates my question for a moment, her eyes never leaving mine.

“Something nice with a happy ending or at least a positive note to it,” she smiles. “Something that leaves one behind with a good feeling and good thoughts,” the young woman adds, quietly.

“We have a huge repertoire of fairy tales,” I wink and she chuckles lightly.

 

“What about one of your own fairy tales?,” she asks quietly while looking up into the orange night sky of London above us. “Aren’t fairy tales supposed to have a happy ending?,” I whisper. “Mine doesn’t have a happy ending. Or at least not as happy as it could have been,” I add, looking over to her, the garden swing underneath us swaying slowly back and forth.

“You have Emmy and Ben. That could be considered a happy ending,” she notes and I can see in her eyes that she feels bad for bringing this up and reminding me of Elizabeth’s dead. But then again, that is why we meet in the first place. So I can tell her the story of my love.

“Yes, I know. And I am very thankful to have them in my life,” I nod, looking at the little tent where my children and au pair are fast asleep by now. “But I still miss her so much,” I mumble, feeling tears well up my eyes and all of a sudden the liquid content of my wine glass is so much more interesting than anything else.

 

She lets her small hand rest softly on my wrist, her thumb stroking my skin. It’s a small and simple gesture but it contains so much more.

I smile faintly, lifting my eyes for the fraction of a second to look at her tender, compassionate gaze.

“Tell me about her, Tom,” she breathes with a smile and I nod, taking a deep breath and another sip of my beverage.

 

_“Tom? Tom are you home?” Excitedly, Elizabeth enters our shared flat, dropping her coat on the little stool in the hallway and kicking her shoes off in a hurry. “What’s wrong?,” I ask questioningly, peeking out from the living room, the list of Latin vocabulary that I had been learning, clutched in my hand together with my favourite pen._

_“Nothing is wrong. I got accepted!,” she squeals, flinging herself into my arms, taking me quite by surprise. I need a moment to collect my thoughts before I hug her tightly, pressing kisses against her hair. “That is amazing, honey! I am so proud of you,” I mumble against her hair, a proud and happy smile on my face. “I can’t quite believe it yet,” she grins, loosening the embrace a bit so she can look at me. Gently, I place my hand on her cheek, stroking her soft skin with my thumb. “There is nobody who deserves it more than you,” I smile, kissing her softly, tenderly, infinitely._

 

“She got accepted at the London College of Fashion to do her BA in Costume for Performance. Elizabeth was a year ahead of me so when I started my third year in Cambridge, she moved to London,” I hesitate for a moment before I go on. “It wasn’t the easiest year for us. Even though both cities are merely an hour away from each other, we were both so busy - me finishing my BA and doing some TV work, Ellie being overwhelmed by finally being able to live her dream - that we sometimes forgot the ‘us’.”

 

_“I am sorry, Tom, but I can’t go to your parents’ with you this weekend. I have an awful lot of work to do and I’ll have to pull an all-nighter anyway,” she sighed at the other end of the line._

_Exhaling loudly, I let my hand run over my face. This conversation feels like a very bad déjà vu but it seems there is nothing I can do to change it._

_“I haven’t seen you for two months now. That sucks, Ellie. I want to see you, I want to hold you, I want to be with you, for god’s sake. Is that really too much to ask?,” I reply rather agitated._

_“Don’t pretend this is easy for me, Tom. You know it isn’t and you know how much I want to see you as well. But…but this is important,” she mumbles, sounding tired and sad._

_“And I’m not?,” I whisper. I can hear her sniffling at the other end and it instantly breaks my heart. “Ellie please. Please don’t cry, I…I didn’t mean it.”_

_“Yes you did, Tom. And you’re right. I’m neglecting my boyfriend, our relationship but…I just don’t know what to do. This is so important to me. You are so important. And I have no idea how to be good with both.”_

_I can hear the tears rolling down her cheeks and I have trouble holding back my own. I hate hearing her cry. I hate not being able to wipe them away. The doorbell is ringing in the back and she quickly blows her nose. “Can I call you later?,” she asks, quietly and I nod even though she can’t see it. “Of course you can. Love you!,” I reply, sad and defeated, before hanging up._

_I sigh as I shove my way through the throng of people eager to enter Shepherd’s Bush Market Tube station, my overnight bag hanging heavily on my shoulder. Outside, rain is pouring heavily from the dark, grey sky, drenching everything and everyone from head to toe, from roof to pavement._

_Picking up her favourite food from the local Chinese takeaway shop, I dash through the still crowded streets until I finally reach the house she lives in, together with another girl from her college. Soaked through, I ring the doorbell and only moments later I can hear her shuffling down the stairs to open the door._

_“Hey darling. I hope you’re hungry,” I mumble with a smile, holding up the plastic bag with the hot, deliciously smelling food. “Tom? What are you doing here?,” she asks, surprised, before flinging her arms around me, causing me to stumble backwards a little bit. Gently, I let my overnight bag and the one with the food drop to the floor, before I pick her up and hold her tight._

_“I’ve missed you so much,” I whisper against her hair, pressing a soft kiss onto her temple, inhaling her scent and feeling her warmth despite the heavy downpour from above. “I’ve missed you, too,” she mumbles, burying one of her hands in my blond, wet curls. I put her down softly as she looks at me with her mesmerising, bright, grey eyes. “I can’t believe you’re here,” Elizabeth smiles, making my knees all weak and my brain all gooey, while the heavy London rain mixes slowly with tears of happiness which are rolling down her cheeks._

_Never have I tasted rain so gladly and happily as I kissed every single one of them away._

“Daddy, I need the loo.”

 

Looking apologetically at Maya, I put my glass down and lift my eyes to my daughter standing just outside of her tent in her bright pink pyjamas. “Off we go then,” I smile faintly and pick her up, before we slowly walk through the dark garden towards the house. She cuddles up to me, her curls tickling my skin, her breathing calm and even. _She’s not even fully awake. Bless her._

 

Helping her onto the loo, I look behind me as I hear another pair of feet shuffling along the wooden floor. Maya is slowly walking up the stairs, a tired Benjamin in her arms.

I smile, thankfully, glad that Ben seems to trust her enough by now to ask her to help him to the toilet.

“We’ll go to the one upstairs,” she whispers and carries my son to the bathroom on the first floor.

“Thank you, Maya,” I manage to say before my daughter demands my full attention again.


	8. Chapter 7

"Daddy, we are going to be in a play at nursery before half-term and we need costumes. Can you make some for us? We are going to be pirates," Emmy proclaims proudly as she returns home with Paula and Ben after nursery. “Pirates, eh? What’s the play about?,” I ask, smiling while picking my son up and giving him a kiss.

“It’s Peter Pan, Daddy,” Ben replies, eagerly, while he plays with the collar of my shirt. “And we’re Captain Hook’s helper pirates.” I chuckle quietly and look at my children. “Helper pirates. Of course,” I wink at Emiliana who simply laughs before she runs outside into the garden, the sun shining brightly from the sky, inviting her to play on the trampoline outside.

 

With Ben still in my arms, I look at him, wiping a strand of his curls out of his face. “How was your day, darling? Did you have fun?” He hesitates and while Paula goes outside to keep Emmy company, I go to the living room with my son, sitting down on the sofa with him on my lap. “What’s wrong, Benjamin?,” I ask, quietly, and he avoids my gaze. “You can tell me, you know,” I add, pressing a kiss onto his head, as the first tears roll down his cheek.

“Marcus and Henry laughed at me today. They said I’m lying because I said that I don’t have a Mummy anymore,” he sobs quietly, burying his face in my shirt. Gently, I stroke along his back, holding him close to me, trying to console him.

“I am so sorry, my love. But you should never forget that your Mummy is still with us, in our hearts and memories. And I am sure if she were here with us today, she would be so proud of you and Emiliana, and she is probably watching you from heaven. And she loves you just as much as I love you, you hear me?,” I whisper, feeling my own tears well up in my eyes but I blink them away quickly.

This is not about my pain, about my broken heart. It’s about my son, his worries and his fear of being different. Slowly, he nods, sniveling quietly. “I love you so much, Benjamin, and I will be always here for you. Whenever you’ve got something on your mind that you want to talk about, you can come to me, okay? You’re not alone, darling. And if you want to, I can talk to Marcus and Henry and their Mummy and Daddy and I’m pretty sure they’ll understand and say sorry,” I add, feeling him calm down slowly. Carefully, I lift his head and wipe away his tears.

“Come on, my little helper pirate, let’s get you a little snack and then we’ll sort out your costumes, eh?,” I suggest with a smile which he returns shyly. Pressing one more kiss onto his forehead, I stand back up with him and together we walk back over into the kitchen where I prepare a little snack for him and his sister while he goes outside and joins the girls on the trampoline.

 

For a moment, I close my eyes as I lean onto the counter. “God Ellie, I miss you so much,” I whisper, a single tear rolling down my cheek before I pull myself together again. I need to be strong. It doesn’t help anyone if I give up now, we’ve come so far.

 

“Daddy, come onto the trampoline with us,” Emmy shouts as I step onto the patio, a plate with fruit in one hand and their drinking bottles in the other. “You sure about that?,” I grin, placing the items on the table before I walk over to the big trampoline, causing my children to shriek in delight. “Time to run to safety while I still have the chance,“ Paula grins, climbing out of the trampoline cover to make room for me.

Sticking out my tongue at the 23 year old, I join my children who immediately hold onto my hands. Carefully, I jump up and down, sending the two five year olds higher and higher, making sure though that they don’t get hurt. Their laughter echoes round the garden, squeals of joy that melt my heart. These are the moments that help me move on. These are the moments that remind me how lucky I am having them in my life.

***

“Alright, let’s see what we’ve got,” I smile, opening the old, wooden chest where Elizabeth kept all kinds of costumes, accessories, and bits and pieces useful for dressing up. After working in the film and theatre industry for a couple of years, she had accumulated quite the collection and this chest was just one of those I had kept.

With big eyes, my children ogle the contents of the box while I rifle through them carefully. After a few moments, I find what I was looking for and I pull out two eye patches and a few other pirate accessories. Benedict had celebrated his 35th birthday with the help of a costume party and Elizabeth and I had attended it dressed up as Captain Hook and his pirate bride. Luckily, I was the Captain and not the bride as Elizabeth had originally intended.

 

_“Oh come on, Tom, that would be so much fun,” Elizabeth grins at me, the pirate dress still in her hands. “No way,” I laugh, moving another step back. “I’m not running around in that dress for the whole night. Besides, you would look much better in it than I. You have the...well, you know...the right accessories,” I wink, my gaze dropping to her chest for a second wherefore she punches me lightly on the arm._

_“Idiot,” she mumbles with a smirk, throwing the dress onto our bed before she opens the second clothes bag with the Captain Hook outfit. “That looks more like me,” I mumble into her ear, my arms sliding around her waist from behind as I press a soft kiss onto her neck. “I think it would fit ME perfectly,” she replies with a smirk, looking at me over her shoulder, her grey eyes sparkling silver in the glow of our little bedside lamp._

_I pout at her, using my puppy dog face which I know persuades her every single time and as she sighs I know I’ve won. “Love you,” I whisper into her ear, pressing a kiss onto the tender spot just underneath her ear and for a moment she closes her eyes, her slender frame leaning into mine, melting into me. “Love you, too,” she breathes before letting go of the costume and turning around in my embrace, her soft, slender hands now resting on my chest._

_“Tom,” Elizabeth whispers after a little while in which I’ve just been holding her lovingly in my arms. “Yes dear?,” I reply, lifting one hand to let it rest on her cheek, stroking the tender skin underneath my thumb. She hesitates for a moment before her eyes find mine, looking nervous, almost fearful. “I want to have a baby,” she mumbles, quickly, words almost stumbling over each other. I look at her, blankly, before I smile. “You want a baby?,” I ask, a tingle running through my stomach, and she nods, slowly, carefully._

_“And would it be right for you now? I mean with your job? Not that I expect you to stop working, I’d be alright with staying at home but...you know...you’ll be the one pregnant,” I mumble, nervous myself as I realise she is serious about it. “It would. It would be perfect. And I love you and we have been married for four years now. I just feel it’s right, it’s the next logical step.”_

_I look at my wife, the idea of having a baby, making a baby, slowly sinking in before I press my lips onto hers, firmly. I can feel her hands moving to the buttons on my shirt, opening them, shoving it off my shoulders, our lips never leaving each other as we slowly move towards the bed._

_***_

_“Hey, it’s so good to see you!,” Ben smiles as we enter the location, breathing a kiss onto Elizabeth’s cheek before greeting me with a hug. “Hello Mr Wilde,” I grin, admiring his outfit. “And a very happy birthday,” Elizabeth adds, handing over our present. “Aww, thanks so much,” he smiles, leading us through the lobby into the_ _main room._

_It isn’t a big location but big enough to feature a bar on one end with a buffet next to it, and a DJ set on the other end of the room. I recognise a few of his colleagues from Sherlock and also a few of the actors who we would be working with a little later in the year when ‘War Horse’ would be shot._

_“I hope you don’t mind if I put this to the side for the moment. I’d rather like to open everything when I’m back home to make sure that nothing gets lost here,” he smiles, placing the wrapped box on a table next to a pile of others. “Of course not,” my wife smiles, letting her hand glide over his arm for a moment before we’re interrupted by Martin and Amanda._

_***_

_Letting my hand ruffle through my hair lazily, I watch Elizabeth carefully putting away our costumes. Never quite leaving her job behind, I think to myself, chuckling quietly wherefore she turns around to look at the reason for my amusement. “What?,” she grins, closing the zipper of the clothes bag before she hangs it onto our wardrobe. “Oh nothing,” I grin, resting my hands on the bed behind me now to keep me upright._

_“Oh and ‘nothing’ is also the reason for that smug look on your face, is it?,” she laughs quietly, slowly walking towards me now. “What if it is?,” I ask, taking her appearance in as she crosses the room. The golden light of our bedside lamp makes her skin glow golden while her dark hair cascades around her face, over her shoulders and her chest like a curtain of rich, black silk._

_“Well, I’d have to find ways to persuade you to tell me what really made you chuckle just now,” she breathes as she stands right in front of me, her hand playing with my dark curls, dyed black for my current project. “And how would you do that?,” I answer, quietly, the smell of her conditioner - vanilla and honey - lingering in the air, while her fingertips glide along my scalp, sending goosebumps along my skin. “I’d find a way,” she whispers, her lips close to my ear now, her breath dampening_ _my skin and causing my boxers to become just that little bit too tight._

 

That night had been different than all the others before, and I can still remember every detail - the smell of her hair, the feeling of her skin on mine, the sound of her pants and sighs as we loved each other over and over again. It had taken another year for her to become pregnant but all these months she had prepared our house for the eventual arrival of our children, hoping that one day she’d be making costumes for them and not only for others - strangers, grown-ups - our own flesh and blood.

 

“So, what do you think?,” I ask my children, placing the eye patches in their hands, their gazes glued to the precious gifts. “Can we use them?,” Emmy asks, astonished, her small fingers playing with the elastic band attached to it. “Yes, you can and you are,” I nod, smiling, before I help Ben to put it on.

“Do you think Mummy would have liked us as pirates?,” my son asks, solemnly, treasuring the heritage of his mother even though he probably couldn’t even remember her that well. “She would have loved you as pirates,” I smile, lovingly, a tear of pride and sadness lingering in the corner of my eye. He smiles in return and as if on cue they both crawl onto my lap, snuggling up to me and pressing wet kisses onto my cheeks. “Thank you, Daddy,” Emmy smiles, the eye patch her mother once wore still resting in her hand, safe and protected.


	9. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not sure where this came from and if it's any good but I felt like writing it...there we go..

“Tom, hi! Do you have a minute?,” she asks, her voice sounding happy and almost as bright as the sun shining down from the blue sky over London today. “Hi Maya! Of course I have,” I reply just as cheerily, putting down the script I have been reading on the garden table in front of me.

“I was wondering if you’re free again in the next few days. I’ve composed a draft for the first few chapters from our previous conversations and I thought you might like to have a look at it.” Since the night of camping in our garden, we had been meeting a few times more and by now she was pretty much up to date with mine and Ellie’s relationship up to her becoming pregnant.

***

_“Why are you even wearing a shirt?,” she smirks at me, looking at my red plaid shirt, whose first few buttons I left open due to the heat and simply because I felt more comfortable like this. “Why not? What’s wrong with this one?,” I grin, taking another step towards the bed on which she is sitting, her dark and wet hair clinging to her naked back, a blue towel covering her modesty on the front._

_Her light, tinkling laughter fills the hotel room and I bite my lip watching her. “Well, it’s halfway open so you could just as well take it off and let me look at you properly,” Elizabeth winks, stretching her foot out to let it glide along my thigh. “Oh, that’s what you’re aiming at. You could have just said so,” I smile, covering the last few centimetres between us before my lips find hers in a loving, gentle kiss._

_“Let’s just stay in today,” she whispers into our kiss, her hands letting go of the towel and sneaking around my neck and back instead, causing me to stumble forward and leaning over her on the mattress. “I thought you wanted to have a look at the River Rhine and do some shopping,” I breathe, my lips gliding slowly along her jaw and down her neck, caressing every millimetre of her delectable, uncovered skin._

_A sigh escapes her luscious, red lips and I smile against the soft tissue of her neck before nipping on it carefully. “That can wait. I on the other hand cannot,” she_ _mumbles, her slender fingers unbuttoning my shirt in no time and pushing it off my shoulders._

 

It was shortly after that we found out that she is expecting and words cannot describe, how overjoyed we were. It wasn’t until a few months later though, that we found out we were having twins.

 

_“Honey, don’t be silly,” I mumble, while trying to fix my tie in front of the mirror in the bathroom. “I’m not being silly, Tom. But look at me! I look like a whale. A really fat whale,” Elizabeth sighs, turning around in front of the mirror next to me, peering at her growing bump from all possible angles. I raise my eyebrows at her reflection and she merely shrugs her shoulders. “You’re pregnant, Ellie. And this bump is the incarnation of perfection so stop being so overdramatic,” I say before I turn towards her, tie still hanging loosely around my neck._

_“You look gorgeous and wonderful, sweetheart.” Gently, I let my hands run over her stomach, smiling at the little kicks coming from inside. “Somebody is excited for the premiere, huh?,” I wink and she nods with a faint smile. “Yeah, our little one has been excited pretty much all afternoon already,” she mumbles, snuggling up to me._

_“I love you, Elizabeth,” I whisper against her hair, relishing the feeling of her growing curves and bump under my touch. “I love you, too, Tom,” she replies quietly. “But still I think I’m...big. And I’m scared that it’s because our baby is huge and that would mean a lot of pain in the end. And he or she is also really, really active. I’m not sure it’s normal,” she sighs, her shoulders sagging and gently, I lift up her chin. “Ellie, if you’re worried, let’s make an appointment with your gynaecologist. I’m sure he could tell us more about our little one and he could answer any questions you have, hm?”_

_She hesitates for a moment before nodding her head and I pick up my phone, making an appointment for the very next day. “There we go. He’s got a free slot_ _tomorrow at 9. And until then let’s enjoy the premier, okay?,” I smile, lovingly, pressing another kiss onto her temple before we both finish to get ready._

 

I’m not quite sure who of us was more surprised when the doctor told us we were expecting twins - healthy, wonderful twins. After the initial shock and ‘Oh my god how are we going to have room for two?’ we were simply happy, looking forward to our two bundles of joy for the remaining months of the pregnancy. It was right before my trip to Guinea that we found the house we’re living in now. We had not been planning to move as we were just about to prepare our current home for the arrival of the twins but when we saw the house and saw the ‘For Sale’ sign in front of it it didn’t take long until we signed the contract and moved in a few weeks later.

Despite being heavily pregnant at that time already, Elizabeth thrived in refurbishing the house, decorating it, making it home for us and our children. I haven’t changed a lot since she did. I couldn’t. The furniture, the decoration, the alterations she had made, were all her and erasing them would mean losing another bit of my wife - something I’m not sure I could cope with.

***

“Why don’t you come around for lunch today? Maybe around 12.30?,” I ask the young woman on the other end of the line, greeting Paula with a wave of my hand as she enters the house just now. “That would be lovely. Thank you, Tom. I’ll see you later then,” Maya replies, hanging up shortly after and with a smile I put down my phone.

 

“Hi Paula,” I smile upon entering the kitchen. “Hi Tom,” she grins in return, filling a glass of water before she leans onto the counter, looking at me. “You look very happy,” the young woman states. “Enjoying the quiet time until the little monsters come back from nursery?,” she adds with a wink and I blush a little. “Maaayyybeee,” I laugh as I grab a cup from the cupboard to make myself a coffee.

“What are you up to today?” I look at her before mumbling. “Wait a second. You changed your hair colour. When did that happen?” She laughs, letting her fingers run through her now chocolate brown curls a little embarrassed. “Um, this morning? I was sick of my blond hair and...it was about time for a change.” Squinting my eyes a little, I look at her with doubt. “Women only change something with their hair when something’s wrong on the boyfriend front,” I mumble wherefore she drops her gaze to the oh so interesting kitchen floor.

“Oh no, I’m sorry, Paula,” I whisper as I realise I’ve hit a bullseye with my comment. “I’m an idiot, forgive me,” I add, taking a step closer to her, unsure whether a hug would be appropriate right now or not. “It’s okay, Tom, you couldn’t have known,” she replies, a few tears now glistening in her eyes before they slowly roll down her cheek. “Hey...come here,” I mumble, ignoring my doubts and pulling her into an embrace causing her to start sobbing quietly, leaning against my shoulder. Gently, I let my hands run over her back, trying to soothe her pain.

“He just broke up with me, out of nowhere. He’s met somebody else, he said. Somebody who doesn’t live so far away and who cares about him ‘unlike me’,” she mumbles against my shirt and I shake my head a little. “If he lets go of you that easily, then he’s an idiot, Paula. He doesn’t deserve you if he can just replace you with somebody else,” I breathe, still holding her in my arms, her hands buried in my shirt at my back.

 

She nods faintly before I let her go a little. Standing up straight, she wipes the tears of her face, blushing a little. “Sorry Tom, you probably got better things to do than looking after a lovelorn au pair.” With a caring smile, I interrupt her, “Don’t be silly, Paula. I care about you and if you’re hurt, I want to try and make it better. Why don’t I ask Ben if he could look after the twins today and you and me, we’ll go out, watch a movie or something, huh?,” I suggest, looking at her expectantly. She hesitates for a moment before nodding slowly. “That sounds really good. Thank you so much. For everything!,” she smiles and I shake my head a little. “Not for that, Paula. That’s what friends are for, eh?”

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to visit my tumblr page http://w-is-for-writing.tumblr.com to find out more about my stories, my characters, and everything else you might be interested in :)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Day 7: Cosplaying](https://archiveofourown.org/works/896358) by [littlemisscurious](https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlemisscurious/pseuds/littlemisscurious)
  * [1st of September](https://archiveofourown.org/works/950684) by [littlemisscurious](https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlemisscurious/pseuds/littlemisscurious)
  * [All I want for Christmas is you](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1055114) by [littlemisscurious](https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlemisscurious/pseuds/littlemisscurious)




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